


After Hell

by Nightfoot



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Fluri Month 2016, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 05:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7030774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightfoot/pseuds/Nightfoot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things take time to be repaired. English translation of "Après l'enfer."</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Hell

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Après l'enfer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6736894) by [Kaleiya_Hitsumei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaleiya_Hitsumei/pseuds/Kaleiya_Hitsumei). 



> This was originally written by Kaleiya_Hitsumei for the Fluri Month prompt "You'll always be beautiful to me". It's pretty much a direct translation.

Between the two of them, Yuri never would have imagined that Flynn would be the one to need a psychiatrist.  After all, Flynn had always seemed so  _ stable _ compared to the chaos of Yuri’s life.  Flynn was his rock, and like a rock, Yuri had hoped he’d weather this storm by his own stubborn grounding.  Flynn had managed to face everything else life had thrown for him so far, hadn’t he?

But now, Yuri had to face reality: this injury - both physical and mental - was going to be much harder to bear than anything Flynn had been through before.  Yuri wanted to stay positive, but he was afraid that if he didn’t bring in professional help, Flynn might sink into serious depression.  

In their apartment, every mirror Yuri hadn’t gotten to concealing had been smashed in rage.  It was a good thing Yuri rarely needed to shave because every other reflective surface had since been covered in an attempt to avoid future incidents.  Hopefully he could avoid playing housemaid again, because he’d been worked to the bone in the role of nurse.  The stress had lasted for a few days already, with no sign of lightening up soon.

Unsurprisingly, Yuri found Flynn curled up on their old sofa in a dark room.  His arms hugged his knees as his eyes, which lacked the luster they’d once known, stared into space.  Bandages still covered his face, concealing the carnage below.  

“Hey.”  Yuri spoke softly, not wanting to startle him.  Despite Yuri’s gentle voice, Flynn jolted as Yuri approached.  He was so jumpy these days - not that Yuri could blame him.  At Flynn’s side, Yuri rested a hand on his shoulder and murmured, “You know I have to change your dressings.”

Flynn’s only response was a weak nod, barely perceptible.  Yuri felt sick thinking about how different Flynn was now, how he only gave subdued, mumbled responses.  It was nothing like the vibrant exchanges they’d had before Flynn was abducted.  Police had found and rescued Flynn before the psychopath could kill him, but not before being mutilated. Though the perpetrator had been shot when he tried to flee, Yuri wanted to drag that bastard out of the grave himself just to make him suffer even half the pain he’d inflicted on Yuri’s husband.  

Yuri flicked on a lamp, setting off a discontent growl from Flynn.  It was only three in the afternoon, but the curtains were drawn.  They would let in too much sunshine and signs of activity from outside, which Flynn was so sensitive to these days.  Yuri didn’t want to irritate Flynn any more than he had to, considering how tenuously Flynn was holding himself together as it was.  

It really sucked suddenly having to become the responsible adult.  

Yuri set the box containing clean bandages, dressings, and disinfectant on the coffee table and took a seat next to Flynn.  Flynn reluctantly turned and moved his legs to the floor, then stared sullenly at the ground.  Since his return, he hardly spoke a word.  

Slowly, Yuri began to remove the white strips taped across Flynn’s cheeks.  Beneath those were the dressings, which Yuri gently pulled away from the wounds.  Flynn’s left cheek revealed less serious damage: five shallow cuts, deliberately inflicted, and healing well.  The worst was his other cheek, which bore carnage which would never fully disappear.  Multiple cigarette burns, slashes, and an ugly burn likely made from a heated piece of metal marred his face.  He had been beaten as well, and his torso was peppered with marks similar to the ones on his face.  

The culprit had been a serial killer.  From what Yuri had read of the case in the days following Flynn’s rescue, the killer preferred to prey on gay men and had a thing about disfiguring them before killing them.  Flynn was the only victim who had escaped alive, and for that Yuri was grateful, but the physical and emotional damage could never be completely repaired.  

The light from the lamp gleamed on his scarred, still-healing face.  Yuri tried, as he often had, to stroke Flynn’s cheek with delicate fingers, but Flynn dismissed him with a turn of his head and a growl.  His patience with Yuri, once so high, had already reached its limit.  

“Flynn, look at me,” Yuri ordered.  

“Make me.”  Flynn’s voice was hoarse.

“If you don’t obey, I’ll have to fall back on the old standard of punching you, which I’d prefer to avoid in these circumstance.”

“Go ahead,” Flynn mumbled.  “Not like any new injuries will make a difference.”

In other circumstances, Yuri would have slapped him to try to get some sense to stick, but that was far from a solution in this situation.  He’d been joking about punching him; striking Flynn now, after everything he’d been through, would only make things worse.  For that reason, Yuri opted for the opposite option: he grabbed Flynn’s chin to force him to turn his head toward Yuri and then placed a kiss on his lips.  Flynn tried to pull away, but Yuri twined his fingers into Flynn’s hair on the back of his head and prevented him from breaking away too soon.  

After they parted, Yuri locked his grey eyes on the blue ones staring back at him with astonishment and regret. 

“Why did you do that?” Flynn asked.

Yuri dropped his hand, but Flynn remained looking at him.  “Because I’m not going to let you down and I actually kind of like you, asshole.”  His word were sharp and stubborn.  “You need me and I intend to stick by your side until you feel like yourself again, no matter how long it takes.”

“But I’m….”

Yuri didn’t let him continue that sentence by cutting him off with another kiss.  This time, Flynn didn’t try to withdraw and after a prolonged second, he timidly returned it.  

“It was never your dumb face that I fell in love with,” said Yuri with a teasing smile.  “In all the time we’ve known each other, I figured you’d realized that.”

At these words, a slight smile appeared on Flynn’s lips.  It wasn’t much, but it was far better than the miserable expression Flynn had worn every day prior.  With time and with the necessary support, Flynn might manage to retake his life.  For now, Yuri would do whatever he could to help him up the slope and ensure he didn’t plummet again.  


End file.
